


Sorted

by deathbycoldopen



Series: Our House Is Not A Home [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, First Crush, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbycoldopen/pseuds/deathbycoldopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel hesitated, unsure of what to do.  Dean was crying softly, obviously trying to avoid waking the others.  He might not appreciate it if Castiel approached him or tried to comfort him.  Most boys didn't like to admit they'd been crying, Castiel had learned when Luke jinxed him when he asked what was wrong that night last summer.  He had a feeling that Dean would be just as bad as Luke was about it.  He'd noticed Dean at the feast, teasing a girl sitting next to him and laughing loudly with everyone about some story about Quidditch.  Dean wouldn't want a stranger to know that he'd been crying, Castiel was sure of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorted

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Przydział](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753665) by [KittensAndRage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittensAndRage/pseuds/KittensAndRage)



Castiel curled underneath the blanket of his fourposter.  He'd been tired as the prefect showed them the way to the Hufflepuff common room, all the food and the excitement of the welcoming feast weighing down his steps.  But the instant his head hit the pillow, he felt wide awake.

He listened to the rustle of the other boys' breathing.  He hadn't talked to any of them, on the Hogwarts Express or at the feast.  He'd sat quietly in the corner of a compartment on the train, watching the scenery fly past as the fourth years in his compartment chatted and ignored him.  At the feast, several older students had slapped him on the back when the Sorting Hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF" and he'd walked to the Hufflepuff table in a daze.  Some of them had even tried to talk to him; but the conversations had all petered out quickly when they discovered that he didn't have a concept of how much eye contact was too much eye contact, and that he didn't have a problem saying the blunt truth.  Idly, he wondered if he'd antagonized enough of them just with the staring that they'd shun him immediately.  He knew it was better that way.  At least if they left him alone right away, he wouldn't be in danger of losing any friends when everyone realized he was just a freak.

A sound interrupted his train of thought, which he was grateful for.  He didn't like dwelling on the way Raphael and Michael would always knock him over when he stared too much or said the wrong thing; he definitely didn't want to think about the way Luke would sneer and call him freak whenever they crossed paths, and the painful "games" he used to come up with on long summer days.  It would be better at Hogwarts, Castiel told himself.  Luke had finished school already, and Michael and Raphael would leave soon enough as well; even Gabriel, who's teasing stung but didn't wound, would be gone in a few years.

The sound interrupted his thoughts again.  He frowned, trying to figure out what it was; a sort of muffled gasp.  Maybe it was a ghost, like the Fat Friar, who had matched Castiel's stare with equal intensity during the feast, until Castiel looked away, trembling slightly.

No, not a ghost.  The muffled gasp hitched and broke, and Castiel heard it for what it was: a sob.  Someone was crying.

He sat up, looking around the dormitory cautiously.  The crying was coming from the bed next to his, the one occupied by the boy with the freckles and the sandy hair... Dean, was it?

Castiel hesitated, unsure of what to do.  Dean was crying softly, obviously trying to avoid waking the others.  He might not appreciate it if Castiel approached him or tried to comfort him.  Most boys didn't like to admit they'd been crying, Castiel had learned when Luke jinxed him when he asked what was wrong that night last summer.  He had a feeling that Dean would be just as bad as Luke was about it.  He'd noticed Dean at the feast, teasing a girl sitting next to him and laughing loudly with everyone about some story about Quidditch.  Dean wouldn't want a stranger to know that he'd been crying, Castiel was sure of it.

But still.

Castiel got up and padded over to Dean's fourposter quietly.  Dean was curled away from him, clutching the pillow over his face to muffle his sobs; he didn't notice Castiel standing right next to him.

Castiel gently rested a hand on Dean's shoulder.  "You all right?" he murmured.

Dean gasped and sat bolt upright, dislodging Castiel's hand almost violently.  Castiel stepped back, suddenly afraid.  Maybe he shouldn't have gone over.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking at Dean's tear-stained face.  He couldn't read the emotion in his eyes; the dormitory was too dark, the emotions too conflicted.  "I didn't mean to...  You sounded... upset."

Dean wiped at his cheeks quickly.  Castiel wasn't sure, but he thought the other boy might have been blushing.  "M'fine," Dean muttered.

Castiel hesitated again.  He should just leave it at that, but something about Dean's tears tugged at him.  Maybe it was because he'd seen Dean laughing so loudly just a few hours before.  "Do you want to talk about it?" Castiel said finally.

Dean met his eyes in surprise, then quickly looked away.  "No," he said, but he sounded unsure.  Castiel waited for a minute in silence, then another, and another.  Finally, he turned to go back to his bed, when Dean said, "I'm not supposed to be here."

Castiel looked back at him.  Dean was studiously examining his hands, picking at a loose thread on his shirt, anything to avoid Castiel's eyes.  "You're not?" Castiel asked blankly.  He had no idea what Dean meant.

"No, I mean..." Dean said, obviously struggling for words.  His voice was still rough with his unshed tears.  "I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor, like my dad.  Not in Hufflepuff."

Oh.  "You think the Sorting Hat made a mistake."

Dean curled into himself.  Castiel could see more tears glinting on his eyelashes.  "No, the Sorting Hat doesn't  _make_  mistakes," Dean muttered miserably.  "That's the problem.  I'm supposed to be selfless and brave, not tolerant or whatever it is.  Dad's gonna be so mad at me, I was supposed to be in his house, and get on the Gryffindor Quidditch team just like he did, but it turns out I'm not 'suited to being a Gryffindor.'  That's what the hat said.  I'm not good enough to be like my dad."  He drew his knees into his chest and pressed his eyes against them, shaking with suppressed sobs. _  
_

Castiel sat on the edge of his bed and touched his shoulder again.  This time, Dean didn't shake him off.  "I don't think that's what the Sorting Hat meant at all," he said cautiously.  "Being better suited for one thing doesn't mean you aren't good enough for another."

"My dad won't be proud of me as a Hufflepuff," Dean whispered.  "He thinks Hufflepuffs are the rejects that didn't make it into the other houses cos they're not good enough.  He'll be so disappointed."

Castiel bristled a little at this.  He was, after all, a Hufflepuff now, and while he might be a freak, he wasn't a  _reject_.  "That's rubbish," he said.  Dean looked up at him, blinking through his tears.  "If your dad thinks that some stupid hat can take everything about you and boil it down to one stupid house, then your dad's an idiot."

Dean frowned.  "He's not an idiot," he said, but there wasn't much bite in his tone.

Castiel brought his legs up onto the bed and clasped his arm around his knees.  "People are complicated," he said thoughtfully.  "They aren't just one thing, you know?  So maybe you are selfless and brave, and as well as loyal and tolerant, and probably other things too.  Just cos you've been sorted into Hufflepuff doesn't mean you just stop being all those other things."  Dean's tears had stopped, though he was still shaking.  He was looking at Castiel with wide eyes, as if he'd never seen anything like him before.  "The whole system is skewed anyway," Castiel continued.  "At some point during the Sorting, one house will always have more students than the others, so the Sorting Hat just puts them in random houses, and everyone pretends it's meaningful even though it's all just logistics."

Dean stared at him for a second, then, to Castiel's surprise, he burst into laughter.  He quickly stifled it when one of the other boys groaned and turned over.  "You're a strange kid, you know that?" Dean said, but it wasn't malicious.  It sounded almost fond, and Castiel felt something squeeze in his chest.  Dean's eyes were shining with something other than tears, a smile playing around his lips and making his eyes crinkle, and Castiel suddenly thought he was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

Castiel buried his head in his knees, hoping Dean couldn't see him blushing.  "Yeah, I know," he said.

A hand tentatively touched his shoulder.  He looked up, and saw Dean smiling at him almost shyly.  "Hey," Dean whispered.  "Tomorrow, do you wanna go to the Great Hall with me for breakfast?  That way if we get lost, at least there'll be two of us."

Castiel felt a smile break over his face.  "Okay," he said.  He wondered why his heart was pounding so hard, why the light touch on his shoulder was sending bolts of electricity through his body, why he suddenly felt the urge to lean forward and-

Oh.

"I'm Dean, by the way," he said.

"Castiel."

They sat in silence for a moment, Castiel fighting this sudden surge of- of- of whatever it was.  Dean shifted slightly.  "Uh, Cas?"

Cas.  Not many people called him that.  The fact that Dean did so immediately made something warm curl in Castiel's stomach.  "Yes?"

"I'd like to go to sleep now," Dean said awkwardly.  "...Some personal space might be good."

"Oh!"  Castiel stood up and got back in his own bed.  He curled with his head facing Dean, and saw Dean doing the same.

"'Night," Dean whispered.

"Goodnight."

The dormitory was silent for a few long minutes.  Castiel could hear his heart beating too quickly still.  He closed his eyes, trying to calm it down.

"Hey Cas?"

He opened his eyes again.  "Yes, Dean?"

Dean took a deep breath.  "Thank you," he breathed, so quietly Castiel almost couldn't hear him.

"You're welcome," Castiel murmured.  He watched as Dean rolled over to his other side, the closed his eyes again.  He fell asleep to the memory of Dean laughing just for him, and the echo of Dean's touch on his shoulder.


End file.
